Surviving This
by Kelral Orlyana
Summary: John is silently suffering, with no clue to how ill he was, until now. I've rated this fiction M for some of the language used.
1. Discovery

Title:- Surviving This

Rating:- M

Warning:- For use of strong language and the subject of the story which is Diabetes, some people may not like reading about blood, injections and medical angst...

Disclaimer:- I do not own the Thunderbirds...

Summary:- John is silently suffering, with no clue to how ill he was, until now.

Initial A/N:- PLEASE READ BEFORE THE MAIN STORY:- I actually suffer from Type 1 Diabetes myself, this story is written from my POV and personal experiences. As a result I feel very strongly about this fiction, though it is somewhat difficult to type. I write this not only for myself but I also wish to give hope to other diabetics out there. Guys, your not alone. Diaberes IS a horrible disease, but think of how much worse it could have been, Diabetics can live normal lives. It's hard to do, but we can do it!

I also know that everyone's diabetes is different, if you disagree with anything written or know about Diabetes better than I do...(I've only been diagnosed a little over a year...) then please review or PM me to let me know.

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><p><span>Surviving This <span>

Chapter One – Discovery

I groaned as I woke up. For Christ sake! What is it now? The moment I thought that I felt guilty, it could be a real emergency, those kinds of thoughts could cost lives! With another groan I sat up, but I felt the over-whelming need to collapse back into the nice, warm, cosy bedding. I whined mentally at the thought. I have to think of getting out of the bed, not in it! I reluctantly stood, but stumbled slightly. It happened every morning. The blood seemed to rush to my head and the whole world would tilt. The number of times I've fallen out of my bed or had to sit down... Stop Thinking! I have to move there could be an emergency! I thought mentally berating myself. I washed and dressed quickly, although 'quickly' was actually about half hour because I had to stop and re-orientate myself, these light headed moments were getting more regular. With a sigh I was finally ready to move into the control room, a quick glance at the screen showed nothing of importance.

I walked over to the chair and sat down, collapsing as if I had run a marathon. I guess nine months of the year in space can do that to a person. I slid over to the main console and checked the monitors carefully.I felt my headache grow worse as a loud noise echoed through the station; I moved my hand over to the source and flicked a switch, instinct fully knowing what button to press through memory and touch. My eyes were focused on the screen above my head. "This international rescue, how may we help?" I recited off by heart. I was watching the hurricane that was getting suspiciously close to America, if it got any closer I'd inform the appropriate authorities that International Rescue was watching, ready to help.

"Son?" I flinched, my head throbbing. I glanced down at the small private view screen to the left-hand side of me. Dad still looked relatively young, with smooth tan skin, dark hair and dark eyes. He was staring worriedly at me, not that I was surprised I did look like crap. My face was blemished and white, my bleached hair was lanky and I was skinny, no matter how much I ate. I was tired and everything felt repetitive. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Dad." I replied out loud, but inwardly I was just begging him to leave me alone. Every noise was painful, even my families voices grated. It didn't help that I was staring at bright screens, in a dark space station 24 hours of the day, 7 days of the week for nine months of the year.

"Are you sure?" Came the usual question. Scott had been asking that a lot. My nerves were frayed, I was agitated and being asked the same questions over and over again, was just frustrating. I mentally sighed, I wanted sugar. I needed sugar.

"Yes, I'm sure." I answered, I pressed some buttons and transferred my Dad's face onto the view screen of my watch. I stretched and stood up, I immediately felt top-heavy. I wanted to sit back down, but I needed the sugar high. I slowly wandered into the small kitchen and pulled out a mug. I put a teabag in it and proceeded to fill the cup with four big teaspoons of sugar. I boiled the water and filled the mug full of water and added a small drop of milk. I liked my tea strong and sweet. I took a sip and sighed in relief at the tingling of the sugar in my mouth.

I sat down on a stool and took the time to drink my drink. It took me a moment to remember my dad was on my watch. I glanced down and smiled at my dad's face, he was frowning thoughtfully. "Do you really need four sugars in your tea?" He asked.

I chuckled. "It tastes awful without it." I admitted, taking a larger sip of the drink. I knew it was sickly sweet to a lot of people but to me it was delicious.

"What's happening about that hurricane near North America?" Dad asked.

I inwardly groaned, why had he asked about work. I had just moved out of the main control room, now he wanted me to go back. I just wanted to whine, leave me alone and curl up in my bed. But instead I sighed and dragged myself back into the control room. "The hurricane seems to be heading for land but it's not yet close enough to cause any damage. If it gets closer I'll inform the authorities that we are watching." I answered, drinking the rest of my drink. The sugar was piled at the bottom and I eagerly spooned it up to eat the sugar.

Dad frowned. "Alright son, I'm sending Scott, Virgil and Brains up to you, Brains will remain on Thunderbird 5, I want you to come home and see a doctor. You're losing too much weight. They should be there in an hour or so. Pack what you need."

"What?" I asked looking down at him like he was mad. He rarely allowed me down from Thunderbird 5, I was the best at communications and handling my bird. Yet he was bringing me down because I was losing weight? I sighed, I didn't feel well but it wasn't that bad, surely? It was most probably stress.

I guess Dad didn't agree, he was staring hard at me with his 'I-won't-take-no-for-an-answer' look. "John Glenn Tracy, you will go to your quarters and you will pack all your things. Now!" I sighed but nodded in agreement. "I will see you soon son."

"See you soon." I answered ending the call. With another sigh I stood and wandered into my quarters. I didn't really have much to pack, just my uniforms, underwear, toothbrush, toothpaste and books. The only problem was that a simple five minute job turned into over half an hour. I was exhausted just from going back and forth from the ensuite and my quarters. No wonder Dad and Scott were worried.

I lay back against the pillows and sighed. I didn't know what to think, most of the time I felt normal. It was only when I got real stressed that these headaches started, the dizzy spells pretty much happened every day. I just assumed that it was because I was in space, with less gravity and the darkness of space, apparently my family thought differently. I rub my hands against my face tiredly, everything was so stressful. Why couldn't they leave me alone? They were happy to leave me here for nine months of the year, why start bothering now? I mentally flinch as soon as I thought those words. They hadn't forgotten me, I was just better up here than down there. Damn this sucked! I felt so emotional, everything was getting to me. Why was I so stressed? It wasn't right to snap at family just for showing they care! I've wanted them to take me back down to Earth for months and the moment they do, I'm sulking like some big kid! I couldn't bring myself to really car, though. I was just so tired of everything.

"John!" I mentally groaned my head was hurting; the least they could do was be quieter! Something bright was flashed over my eyelids. Wait Eyelids? When had I closed my eyes? I opened them quickly, but immediately clenched them shut when a bright light was flashed over them. "Sorry." I just glared up at my second oldest brother. My eyes were seeing tiny lights and speckles where the light had shone. Damn, another pain to add to the list. "How are you feeling?" Like shit, thanks for asking. I pushed my older brother away and sat up slowly, not wanting to show them how dizzy I was.

Two pairs of brown eyes stared down at me, I found myself amused, Virgil and Scott looked incredibly similar. I wonder if they were trying to be twins. Both had brown hair, bleached white at the tips and both had expressive brown eyes. Like Dad they had smooth, tanned skin from hours in the sun, whilst I was up here starving and turning into a white, blemished skin skeleton. I mentally sighed; there were those depressing thoughts again. Maybe the stress was coming from me; I seemed to hate myself and everything around me.

Gentle hands tilted my face so I would meet my oldest brother's eyes. "Answer the question, John. How are you feeling?" Scott asked, looking down at me in worry.

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit!" Scott answered.

"You've had dizzy spells?" Virgil asked. I was considering ignoring them, but they stared down at me with slight panic. I couldn't be that bad, could I? Instead I nodded. "You've been drinking more sugar and haven't been properly eating." It was more of a statement then a question, but I nodded, it looked like Virgil had some sort of suspicion or something. "It doesn't matter what you eat, you still lose weight?" Again I nodded, looking at Virgil expectedly. Virgil had already made some theoretical diagnosis, what was it? "I have to get John strapped into Thunderbird 3. You set up Brains and Fermat here." Virgil ordered.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me up to my feet. I gripped the older man's shoulder as another dizzy spell hit me, God did I hate them! I shivered slightly, with the cold and with the fact that I could feel how skinny I was to my older brother. Virgil was quite skinny, himself yet he was able to lift me like I weighed nothing. I couldn't even pull away, his arms felt like iron bands around me. Virgil lifted my arm over his shoulder and put an arm around my waist, before walking over to the doors to Thunderbird 3. All four of them stared at me in worry, I felt guilty. I was ill and now I was making myself a burden. Fermat was just a kid. He may be part of the IR now, but he wasn't experienced with space and Dad was allowing his father and him to remain on Thunderbird 5 on their own! If I wasn't ill, this wouldn't be happening. I'm a bloody failure; I can't even take care of myself properly. I glanced at Virgil from the corner of my eye. My brothers, including the very youngest Adam had always put their lives on the line rescuing those who needed rescuing, including me at one point. Yet here I was being taken home because I couldn't handle stress! What a bloody weakling I was!

I silently strapped myself into a seat under Virgil's watchful eyes. My brothers had come all this way to help me because I suffered from stress. Virgil was watching me worriedly, was he worried for my mental health? Was he worried I would hurt myself of someone else? Did Dad want me back on Earth because he couldn't trust me on Thunderbird 5 no more? I was sure I hadn't ever given Dad a reason to distrust me. I did my job perfectly. What did I do wrong? Or was it just me?

Scott finally returned to the cockpit of Thunderbird 3. "Brains and Fermat are settled, we are ready to return." He stated simply as he strapped himself in. "Preparing to separate."

"You have go to separate." Brains voice echoed through the console.

"Separating in 3, 2, 1." Scott continued. "Separating complete." He said needlessly, we all heard the clamps release. "Returning to Earth." I sighed in annoyance; did he need to say everything out like a bloody step by step guide? I mentally groaned, there was my bad temper again! I was so fed up with it, I loved my brothers and although I could kill them sometimes, I had never been this moody about them before! Not even in my head! I was very glad I still had control of what I said, because I never wanted to say what I thought to my brothers. They'd never forgive me! Instead I stayed quiet. I was always quiet. It was my rule. Never talk about what I thought or what I felt, just be the good, quiet kid, well behaved and out of the way.

Several hours later and I was fidgeting, I wanted out of this damn rocket. I've been sitting for over an hour. I want fresh air and proper, fresh, awesome coffee. Then sleep. I definitely wanted sleep. When the craft was landed, I followed Virgil out, Scott remained to make sure all systems were shut down. I just wanted to disappear into my room. Sod the doctors. I followed Virgil out an intended to slip away but instead I was hit head on by two missiles, with blonde hair and ginger hair. Two pairs of blue eyes gave me a once over. They obviously did not like what they saw because they frowned.

"John." I glanced up at my father and waited. "Go change into civilian clothing, your appointment at the doctors is in 45 minutes." I nodded and turned, leaving the room, but not without noticing Virgil's pointed look at Dad out the corner of my eye. They would be talking about me the moment I was out of ear shot. They didn't even trust me to speak to me face to face. Instead they'd talk about me behind my back!

With stiff shoulders I left my Dad's office, the command centre or Head Quarters as Scott and Dad liked to call it and walked to my room. The moment I was inside I closed the door securely and sighed. I felt like some ticking time bomb. I was this close to snapping at my family for the littlist thing. I mean they could be worried for me! They could be talking about how to help me and I was getting paranoid!

I sighed again and pulled on some jeans and a shirt. I blinked as they slid down me. They normally fit. The pair was small, I was the slimmest of my family, but this was stupid, even my smallest pair slid down! I couldn't be that skinny. I glanced at the mirror and gasped. Apparently yes I could. I could see the outline of my bones through my skin. Shit! I was ill. I pulled out a belt and set it on the tightest setting, before choosing a baggy top to put over my black vest. I was wary of what I looked like before, but now I knew I was ashamed! My skin was pasty, my eyes were dull, my hair was lanky and I was literally skin and bones. How the hell had I survived almost nine months up in space on sugar full coffee and chocolate?

I strolled out of my room and met with my Dad, Virgil and Scott by our family car. I climbed into the back behind the passenger seat, which Scott took. Dad climbed into the driver's seat and Virgil climbed into the backseat, with me behind dad. The drive was silent, I usually liked to listen to music or stare out at the view as we flew from Tracy Island and then drove to wherever we needed or wanted to be. But now I was just concerned with myself. How hadn't I noticed how ill I was being? Could stress really have caused this? I didn't have much time to ponder as we pulled into the small car park of the doctor's surgery.

As we walked into the reception Dad smiled at the receptionist and simply stated, whilst pointing to me. "Mr John Tracy."

The lady checked the computer. "Ah, Mr John Tracy. Please take a seat." I nodded with a small smile before strolling for the corner seat, out of the way. I sighed as I sat down again, rubbing hands over my face, ignoring the concerned glances from my two older brothers and Dad.

This is so pointless; the doctors don't even bother to be on time. I thought, I instantly felt guilty, what if a patient was taking longer due to a real issue. I shouldn't have thought so harshly.

"Mr Tracy?" A man asked. I nodded and stood, following the doctor. I heard my Dad and two brothers following. The man smiled at me and the rest of my family. "Please take a seat." I sat on the bed in the corner, Dad sat on the chair, Virgil took the spare seat and Scott leant against the edge of the bed. "Now I'm guessing that you're Mr John Tracy, I'm Jack Clarke." The doctor stated glancing at me. I frowned, I was obviously really sick if this man could spot it instantly. "You don't have a lot of weight. Do you have any lumps or unexplained bruising?" I shook my head.

Virgil coughed. "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, I'm training to be a doctor myself and as his brother I've noticed a few symptoms. Well actually we've all noticed symptoms." He stated pointing at himself, Dad and Scott. "He's tired, doesn't eat any proper food but is happy to eat chocolate and sweets, his coffees have four sugars each."

"He seems very tired." Scott added. "Like everything is repetitive, I noticed earlier that noises seem to hurt him."

"That sounds quite serious. Do you have any ideas what could have caused this?" Jack asked, glancing at me.

"I figured it was just stress." I replied quietly. Scott snorted loudly. "Well you spend nine months up in space using reused water to make the brown slop they call coffee powder into drinkable coffee and then we'll talk!" I snapped.

"Moody?" I heard the Jack ask.

"It's the first time he has really snapped at any of us, but we've all noticed he glares from time to time." Dad answered. "He tends to be a very quiet person, happy to be on his own and be independent but it was odd behaviour even for him."

"Hmm." Jack hummed. "Well it might be stress, but I can't rule out several other causes. Okay Mr Tracy. May I call you John? It gets a bit confusing with four of you here!" Jack stated with a grin. I nodded my permission to use my first name. "Okay John, can I do a couple of tests?" I nodded with a small sigh. First he flicked a light in both my eyes, muttering in medical language. Then he listened to my heartbeat before doing a blood pressure test. " Alright John, I would like to take a blood sample and a urine sample to send to the lab. If you don't hear from us within a fortnight then it will most likely be stress." But the expression on everyone's faces stated they very much doubted it. "I'll arrange with the nurse to get you done as soon as possible." Jack reassured.

"Thank you Doctor Clarke." Dad answered, shaking his head. Jack proceeded to shake all our hands before we returned to the waiting room.

I was going to have a blood test.

I was going to have a huge freaking needle in my elbow sucking out my blood. I cringed. I hated needles. Even though I hadn't even had it done, the thought of having it done made me grip my elbows protectively. Scott rubbed my back soothingly, but I couldn't care less. I was going to have a freaking blood test.

I hate doctors.

I hate nurses.

And I especially hate needles!

"Mr John Tracy." I glanced up and shivered at the sight of a small blonde nurse. "Hello there, do you want to follow me?"

"Do you mind if we come in as well?" Dad asked standing up.

"No not at all." The nurse replied. Dad smiled and followed her, I walked behind him with Scott behind me, gripping my shoulder in support. Virgil followed behind us. "Hi, John. My name is Cathy. I'm going to ask you a few questions then collect a blood sample from you okay?"

"Okay." I was surprised I got that word out, I felt like my throat had closed up. Scott led me to the black seat, easily associable with blood tests, I sat down and glanced cautiously around the room easily catching sight of the needles and tubes in trays littered over the tables surface.

"Okay, what's your date of birth?"

"28/ 10/2041." I replied dutifully.

"Have you ever smoked or done drugs?"

"No."

"Do you have any prior illnesses or conditions that I should be made aware of?"

"Not that I know of."

Cathy stood with a small smile, she picked up a small stray and placed vials into it, I glanced away feeling the bile rising up my throat. God, I hated needles. "Okay, John, can you relax your arm for me." I tried to do as she said, but I let my right arm grip the chairs arm tightly. Why did my family have to bring me here? I would have been fine, eventually! I felt the woman place a belt around my arm and tighten it. "This will make it easier to draw blood." She explained.

"He doesn't like needles." Virgil explained, having been at the receiving end of John running and hiding when it was time for their annual jabs when they were kids.

"Alright then John. How about you tell me what you're doing at the moment. Are you at work?"

"I'm an astronaut." I replied, why did she have to try and make me talk. I didn't want to talk! Not when I knew what was happening next!

"An astronaut. Wow! That must be a great job!" She stated, I could hear that she was truly amazed but I couldn't care less. Just get it over and done with, or better yet, don't do it at all! "What do you do up there"?

Instead of answering, I stayed quiet, gritting my teeth as I felt the needle go in. God Damn It! Dad chose to answer for me. "He's a communications officer. He reads all the information and listens to the broadcasts, making sure the signals are strong and sent to the correct places, according to priority." I hissed as I felt the blood being drawn out, then there was a pop and a click. I couldn't concentrate, I was jumpy. It was taking all my will power not to flinch. I hate needles!

"You've done well." Cathy stated, I gasped as she pulled the needle out. That had hurt even more! She quickly placed a cotton wall ball onto the hole and pressed firmly before taping it on. "Well done. Now all I need is a urine sample and you can go." She handed me a vial with a screw cap and I immediately left to do what was requested. I didn't relax until we were in the air heading back to Tracy Island. I glared at anyone who tried to speak to me. I hated needles God Damn it!

I stalked to my room, ignoring my two younger brothers. That's it. I've had earnt a vacation! I'm staying right here, in my room for, well forever! I mentally sighed at my childish behaviour as I fell onto my bed. Sleep soon claimed me.

After the initial shock of the blood test, everything eventually went to normal. Gordon remained in the pool; Alan worked with Gordon for pranks, obsessed over Tin-Tin and cars. Scott was in the office with Dad and Virgil, although Scott and Virgil would come out and join Alan, Gordon and Tin-Tin in the pool. I was happy in my room, laying on my bed, sleeping and reading. Yes, life was pretty good at the moment.

And then it came.

"John!" I glanced up from my book. I left my room and walked into the kitchen, Scott was holding an off colour white envelope. I hesitantly took it and checked the return address. It was the doctors surgery. I was expecting them to take longer. I frowned. If they'd sent it in four days. They must have found something quite serious, to send word so quickly.

I skimmed quickly over the letter. They wanted me to go back. What! I only had that blood test four days ago! What the hell! What did they find? They had sent that letter quickly; it must mean they've found something serious or important.

Scott leant over and snatched the letter from my hand and read it before glancing at me. He passed it to Dad; I barely glanced around as the letter was passed around. What did they find why couldn't they just tell me outright? Why did they have to drag it on like some secret? Holy shit! I'm in trouble!

Dad wandered over to the phone and booked me another appointment for the next day. I sat down barely registering my brothers as they chatted. What was wrong with me? Why all the secrecy?

The night passed with a blur and soon I was back in the waiting room of the doctor's surgery, I fidgeted and began thinking. I've been sleepy; I've always had room for chocolate and none for real food. Could I have diabetes? Alan thought it might be thyroid. Now I really thought about it I was addicted to sugar and sleep. Did I really have diabetes?

A nurse wandered through. "Mr Tracy?" I nodded and stood. "You're the guy with Type 1 diabetes, right?" I froze what? I may have guessed I had diabetes but having it stated so bluntly, damn that hurt! The nurse looked at my shocked face and frowned. "You didn't know?"

"No." Dad answered as he gripped my elbow and led me behind the nurse to an office at the back of the building. I sat down in shock, the tears building in my eyes.

"Okay, John, I am going to take your blood and check it using this machine. I'm going to prick your finger and this machine tells me how much sugar you have in your blood."

"Okay." I muttered, barely making sense of it. I was diabetic! No! This had to be wrong! Wait! Prick my finger!

"It's a small needle that punctures the skin slightly. What we do is put the test strip in the machine, in the slot down at the bottom. It automatically switches on. I wait for it to ask for blood and then I press the end of the test strip to the blood and it reads how much sugar is in it. Alright."

"Okay." I shivered as she picked up a small pen and pressed it to the side of my thumb. She pressed the button and I felt a sharp pain. A small droplet of blood gathered on my skin and she pressed the test strip to it.

She frowned. "This is reading 26.6. That is very high John." She walked over to a small cupboard in the corner of the room. "Okay, John can I have a urine sample?" I sighed, nodding before disappearing into the toilet with a cup. When I returned she stuck a coloured stick into the cup, the stick went dark brown. "This means there is a high level of ketones in the blood. Basically, your urine is full of protein. What is happening is your body is not processing any food, instead it is processing the fat present in your body, making you lose weight." She explained. I nodded, not really understanding but wanting to get it over and done with. "You will have to go over to the hospital to see a diabetic nurse."

I could barely focus, I wanted to cry, and surely this was all wrong?

At the hospital they asked for another blood test, they tried the opposite arm since I'd already had a blood test from my left, but my vein wasn't visible and it was agony. They were forced to take another blood test from my left arm. Finally I met a young lady. Her name was Charlotte but she went by Lottie. Lottie talked very calmly and slowly, I breathed more carefully listening to what she was saying. I was expected to inject twice a day, one in the morning and one in the evening. Apparently there were two different types of insulin, fast acting and slow acting, but their official names flew right over my head. The fast and slow acting were mixed together, so I had to eat with every injection. She wanted me to inject. I couldn't do that! I cried, I was shaking, I couldn't.

Lottie took it in stride and asked me if I would like her to show me first. I nodded, pulling down my trousers so she could get to my thigh; I held my breath as she put the needle in. I close my eyes half way through and waited for the inevitable pain. "I'm done." I glanced down. The pen was against my skin. "Is it in?" She nodded and pulled it back in. I hadn't felt a thing!

Slowly I nodded and took the pen; nervously I stuck the pen in. It wasn't too hard but I hated it. The moment I had succeeded I pulled it back out. I was then told what to do and how to do it was given Lottie's phone number and sent home. It was all over very quickly and yet my mind was still back at the reception in the doctor's surgery, remembering how I instinctually knew it was diabetes, then having it confirmed so bluntly.

The moment I arrived back on the island, everyone was asking questions. I just wanted them to go away. Dinner was fast approaching, my first official injection. Dammit I couldn't, I didn't want to! I heard Dad calmly explaining the situation. My brothers were silent, I sobbed silently to myself. When dinner was called, I pulled out my new items and set them up but I couldn't bring myself to inject. I shook crying.

Dad came in and sat next to me. "If you don't want to do it you don't have to it's your body."

"I have no choice, do I, if I don't I'll become really sick!" I answered my voice full of tears. I couldn't focus, I knew I had to do it, but I couldn't. I didn't want to.

Dad left, telling me that maybe him watching was putting me off, but even after he was gone I couldn't. I sat for five minutes, listening to my family eat and talk. I wanted to eat and I wanted to be normal, but I couldn't like this. I just. I just had to inject.

Taking a deep, watery breath, I slowly pushed the needle in; it didn't hurt as much as I thought it did. Lottie was more experienced then me so it hadn't hurt at all, but with my hands shaking and the fact I had stuck it in slowly, I was surprised it didn't badly hurt. I pushed the plunger down, before I lost my courage, the feel of liquid pushing into my body stung and I hissed. Perhaps next time I'll do that a little slower? I counted to ten and pulled the needle out. The wound stung slightly. But it was over.

Taking a calming breath and wiping away the tears, I joined my family outside. They smiled at me and Dad asked if I'd done it. I nodded and eagerly tucked into some food. I still wasn't overly hungry but my family were glad to see me eat.

I smiled a small smile at my family as they all gave me grins of pride, I just wanted them to stop staring at me. I may have managed to do it tonight but there was still tomorrow.

And the rest of my life.

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><p>AN:- This is written from my perspective but I would love to hear your experiences or stories you've heard.

I know at the moment it is quite sad and angsty, I stated in the disclaimer that I want to give hope to all diabetics, but I can't sugar coat the angst that I've experienced either. Diabetes isn't what I've asked for but I've got to live with it and I'm not going to let it take over my life and I'm hoping this story can prove that we can all control our diabetes and live like normal people.

Kelral Orlyana

P.S:- I am reposting these chapters with slight changes... I've put the disclaimer and summary on the top of chapter one instead of in a seperate chapter of its own.


	2. Cycle

Surviving This

Chapter Two- Cycle

It had been a couple of days since that day but it still replayed through my mind. Four days it had taken, four days! I was told a fortnight and yet the letter had arrived four days later instead! The very worst part of this whole nightmare was the fact I was diabetic! I was in some horrible, twisted dream. I logically knew what I was doing but emotionally I couldn't even begin to comprehend that I had to inject for the rest of my life. Hell, I didn't want to! Why did I have to? Why had my body turned on me? Why did I have to inject something that should be naturally occurring in my body? Why?

The biggest problem was how often I had to prick my finger to test the blood. Four times a bloody day! It was a long and tiring circle. 6:45, test blood, inject and eat, 11:45 test blood and eat, 5:45, test blood, inject and eat, 9:45, test blood and sleep, then repeat the next day. It had only been a couple of days and already I was fed up. Whenever I got involved in anything I had to stop regularly to test my blood, inject and eat. It was so unfair!

I visited Lottie with my family often, Virgil especially always sat in on the meetings, being a medical expert of the family, and he wanted to know everything so he could take care of me better. Lottie had gradually asked me to raise my insulin, until I was taking 30 units of mixed insulin daily. Was she trying to kill me? 30 bloody units! 16 in the morning, 14 in the evening! It hurt! I didn't say anything out loud, although I knew everyone was concerned with how calm I was being. Instead I just grit my teeth and injected, not bringing any attention to myself. I didn't want all this attention on me, it made me really self-conscious. Scott and Virgil should be focused on Alan and Gordon, not me!

My family obviously wanted me to talk but I didn't like talking about diabetes. I hated it; my body had turned against me and had been slowly dying without me being aware of it. What if my family hadn't noticed? I'd be an amputee or in a coma right now! Or worse I could be dead! I shivered in shock curling up on my bed, my arms around my legs. The absolute worst part was how useless I was, here I was curled up in bed staring at the bed spread but my brothers were out at a rescue in Alaska. They were risking their lives and I was sitting here unable to help because I was ill, I was useless, pathetic.

My family were trying to be supportive but they were so worried that even going out to a local town was a big affair. They were determined to carry the fridge in the car 'just in case'. As supportive as my family were being, their worry was getting to me. What if I returned to Thunderbird 5, (if they let me, which I doubt) what if I collapsed, I'd have no help for at least a few hours, and I'd be alone! Taking a shuddering breath I leant back against my pillows. I had taken to hiding out in my room the majority of the time, when I was around my family I was always aware of their concerned and worried looks.

What can I do? I've read all my books over and over again; I bet I could recite every word off the top of my head. I've even finished writing several chapters for my book. I've got nothing to do. I'm useless. Besides even if I did get involved in something, I would have to stop to follow the schedule, if I didn't eat of inject I could make myself seriously ill! This is a bloody nightmare.

I couldn't tell Lottie, what could I tell her? That every time I inject I was ashamed, that I feel like some druggy. Or that it was absolutely humiliating being a diabetic. My family had taken to eating dinner later, especially for me, so we'd still be able to eat together as a family. Personally I just wanted the food to be placed in my room and to be left alone. Going out there with my family knowing what I'd done just to eat, mad me shiver in self-pity. All I could tell Lottie was that 'I was handling it', I'm pretty good at keeping to myself so it was easy to lie like that. I just wish it was easy to lie to myself. I knew! I knew logically that this was keeping me healthy and that I shouldn't be ashamed, this medication was a good thing. I knew it, but emotionally I couldn't get by it. I shook every time a needle was close to my skin. Hell! I even flinched with the 'finger-clicker' machine and that needle was tiny! I hated needles! No matter the size.

I was stuck like this. In a kind of limbo I suppose. There was nothing to do. I very much doubted that my family would ever include me with the IR for a very long time. The problem was, I didn't really want to return to Thunderbird 5. To be trapped up there with this, this disease. I was scared, what if something happened? All I could do at the moment was stay in this luxury, Island house and feel sorry for myself. Besides it wasn't like I could go out and visit friends. All my contacts were associates not friends. I'm not a social person, which was why I was perfect for Thunderbird 5. My family were my friends, when they were doing IR business who could I turn to for company. No-one that's who!

I groaned. I hated myself too. I mean look at me, I'm laying here feeling sorry for myself. I'm pathetic! I haven't even really spoken to my family in weeks. I've shut everyone out. I've shut out my family, how stupid is that? They're the people I need the most.

That's it! I jumped up, I can't keep doing this. I've got to take control, somehow. I have to find something that is normal and can hold me together. I looked at my telescope, I suppose star gazing, but it is not the same from down here on Earth. Up there I was in the middle of it all, down here I could only look up and dream. But if I was being totally honest, I was scared of space now too. No, that's a lie, I still love it, and I guess I'm just scared of returning to my girl with this 'disease'.

Sigh.

I am doing it again. I need something to hold me together, to keep me sane. But what? I couldn't watch the movies, because of the sweets. I was too afraid to eat them. What if…? No! Focus! I berated myself. I breathed in deeply. Coffee. That's what I needed. Not the reused water kind, but good, honest, great, fresh, awesome, addictive coffee. Yes, that's exactly what I needed.

I chuckled amused at my own thoughts. I would be upset without chocolate, but I'd definitely be more devastated if my caffeine was taken away. With a small smile I left my room, for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Scott and Virgil were already in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar drinking their own hot drinks. They looked up and smiled warmly at me as I walked in, I smiled slightly in return. "I guess the kettle's already boiled." I stated glancing at their cups.

"Yes." Scott answered, staring at me carefully. I didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed. Scott knew I didn't like talking about how I felt so he had taken to staring and trying to work out what was wrong. "Are you alright?" He eventually asked with a frown.

I sighed, grabbing a cup and making my drink. "I'm fine."

"John."

I sighed again; I knew that tone of voice. It was the 'don't-even-think-of-lying-to-me' tone. "I will be fine." I answered, silently adding eventually. I turned and leant back against the table top; taking a deep sniff of my coffee much to my two older brother's amusements. I took a small sip, testing the heat, before taking a larger gulp. "I missed having proper coffee." I muttered.

Virgil grinned. "I don't know." He pulled the jar over to himself and read the label. "Maybe drinking squished, gooey powdered coffee with reused water might put you off coffee. If that didn't work we can always hide the jars of coffee."

I glared and snatched the jar away from him. "Not the coffee!" Virgil lifted his hands up in mock surrender with a grin. But I did not put the jar down, much to their amusement. It's my coffee now! I thought with a small smile.

"Where's the coffee?" I glanced up and watched as Alan stared uncomprehendingly at the empty spot the coffee used to be placed. "I swear will still have half a jar of coffee. I smirked, amused, when the kid has only just awoken, he's clueless. He eventually glanced my way and worked out I was guarding the coffee. "Hand over the coffee John." I snorted, drinking my coffee and tightening my grip on the jar. "John."

"Those two blondes are coffee addicts!" Scott muttered.

"Aren't we all?" Gordon asked strolling in, he ruffled his hair sleepily, and grinning as Alan tried to lunge for the jar. I lifted it above his head, lifting an eyebrow as he glared. "You should let the squirt have some coffee John. He's unbearable when he's moody; he's a nightmare without coffee."

"Perhaps, John can put the jar back where it belongs so we can all have coffee." Dad's voice cut in, we all turned to stare at the older man, who was looking at me pointedly, I sighed and put the jar back down, with a small huff I sat next to Scott at the breakfast bar.

I smiled, happily listening as Alan and Gordon argued about who knows what prank they'd pulled or intended to pull. Scott was talking to Dad about repairs to Thunderbird 1 and Virgil was simply sitting and listening like I was. It was so familiar, that I found myself relaxing. Why had I blocked them out again?

The rest of the day, I had decided to try and become more involved, try to go back to normal. It was surprisingly easy. Diabetes was always there like a chain around my neck, ready to choke me. But at the moment I was able to live, well, like normal. I was willing to ignore the sweets my brothers snacked on, I was willing to forgo sugar in my coffee as long as there was a sweetener in it, and I was feeling good.

Well as good as anyone can feel with a life changing illness like diabetes. At any point it could change, it could potentially be fatal to me. No! I can't let myself become depressed again.

I sighed and stood up, stretching. I glanced down at the machine I was working on. Somehow the receptors had been fried, the machine was beginning to show regular faults and had lost its reliability. I figured that now I had enough time, I'll just fiddle with the machine and get it to work. I had been working on it for a couple of hours, only stopping to test my blood. The machine was looking pretty good. Another couple of hours and it would be working at full capacity. Man, I'm good!

But now I was getting hungry. I was getting hungry more often, if I didn't eat at 10:00 or 3:00 I would start shaking. It was weird, since I wasn't a person who enjoyed food. My family had taken it as a good sign and had told me that this was a good thing. I personally thought it was a nightmare. I didn't want my life to be so dependent on food. I was happy with a small lunch and dinner, but now my body was begging for more food. I sighed and washed my hands before moving into the kitchen. I made myself a coffee before grabbing an apple and sitting at the breakfast bar. I suppose five minutes couldn't hurt, thought it really was annoying to have to keep stopping what I was doing to eat.

I instinct fully jumped up as an alarm claxen sounded through our home. The alarm was for the members of IR. I frowned sadly, I wasn't a proper member of IR, and I was useless to everyone. There was no point of me even checking the situation out. What could I do? Nothing, that's what.

With a sigh, I walked into the garage and knelt over the machine. Okay, I need to replace…

"John!" Virgil raced over, "Dad wants us all in his office. Now!" With that said he raced away again, focused on the latest rescue.

Why did he want me up there?

Did he want to rub how useless I was into my face, by making me watch them leave? I took a deep breath. I can't keep thinking like this. My family cared for me. Perhaps they just want me to be there because the IR is a family thing?

I walked into Dad's office and glanced around. Dad stood up from his place behind the desk. "Son, take the command centre, I want you watching over us and the situation from here." He ordered, I mentally froze. What! He wanted me to... That was Dad's desk! No-one sat at it but Brains and Dad. "Son."

I nodded and quickly moved to take my place at the console. Did Dad trust me this much? It was too much trust! What if I had an accident behind the desk, I could potentially compromise the situation! But this was the first time Dad has given me responsibility since 'the diagnosis'. I am determined not to fail him. "Systems are online and ready to go." I stated.

"Thunderbirds are go!" Dad called out. I watched as my Dad and four brothers disappeared behind the revolving doors against the wall.

Okay. Dad has handed me a huge responsibility. Let's do this right. I took a good look at the situation. Hmm. A group of miners were trapped in a mine. The water had risen and blocked about 200 metres of the mine, preventing escape. The divers had been sent in but had been pull out because of the danger the water filled mine presented. No-one was able to contact any of the miners. Okay, Dad and my brothers couldn't send one of them under with the digger because that could potentially aggravate the situation, thunderbird 4 might be able to get through the water filled mine, but if the mine had collapsed it could mean that Thunderbird 4 became trapped. They would probably need to drain the mine or dig down from the top. But both presented risks of their own. Digging down might collapse the mine and so could draining it. If the support beams had been barely eroded or damaged by the water it could collapse when the water was taken away because the sheer amount of water would be holding it up. What would Dad and Scott decide?

"Scott, talk to the emergency services see if they can create a way of slowly draining the mine. The moment we've arrived in Thunderbird 2, I will lower Gordon down in the digger." Dad ordered. So he had chosen both options. I contacted the local ambulances and told them to be ready and alert for the survivors, I spent the whole rescue talking to the emergency service members, listening to their side of the story and the state of the people they pulled out. There were twenty men in that mine, only twelve came out alive. I sighed sadly, poor bastards. To even want to work in the mines at all, well I guess they must have been desperate for income, instead eight died.

I froze slightly. I could have joined them, another year without being diagnosed and I could have been an amputee, or in a coma or even dead. I was lucky! I got diagnosed and I can save myself. The problem was that too save myself I had to turn myself into a pin cushion. What a bloody nightmare! But I guess. I took a deep breath. I guess the saying that applied here was 'no pain no gain'. In the end injections were better than being an amputee, or being in a coma or dead.

Scott returned quickly and with a grin raced off to have a shower. I smiled and watched Thunderbird 2's output. They were steadily heading home; they'd be back in twenty minutes or so. The situation they'd left behind was being expertly cleared up by the authorities, but the job wasn't over until Dad, Virgil and Gordon returned home safely. Only when I finally saw them face to face, did I dare to relax. I sighed leaning back against the chair before standing and stretching.

"Okay, boys go shower and relax for a bit, dinner will be ready in an hour." Dad stated with a smile. Gordon and Virgil nodded before racing off each one trying to be the first to reach the shower. I quietly sighed and wandered out of the room.

Yes, dinner was soon, another injection. I wandered into my room and sat on my bed staring at the container full of all my insulin, pens and needles. I knew how important it was but damn, did I hate it.

"Dinner's ready."

Already? Had I been staring at that box for half an hour or more? I sighed, it seemed no matter how much I admitted to myself, that I needed this medication, I still couldn't accept it.

I pulled out the pen and screwed the needle onto the end, emptying 2 units to ensure the needle wasn't blocked before changing it to fourteen units. I pulled my trousers down and held the tip of the needle against my thigh. I hesitated, if there was a way to do this without me being conscious of it I would take it. Hell if there was a way out of this I would take it! Slowly I pushed the needle in, letting out the breath I was holding in a hiss, man that hurt and I was only halfway through! I pushed the button down slowly this time. It still hurt, I could feel every single drop entering me, but eventually I had injected fourteen units. I pulled the needle out and rubbed the skin. It was over for another day, until tomorrow.

* * *

><p>AN: - I am sorry I didn't tell you about the pens very clearly. I have cartridge pens, with disposable cartridges. Some people use one-time use pens where you use them and bin them but I keep the pens and dispose of the cartridges. The needles are given separately to the pens and cartridges and as far as I know all needles screw onto the pens. They come in all different sizes but mine are 5mm sized needles.

There are two types of insulin fast acting and long acting. As their names suggest fast acting is for the whole day and fast acting is for meal times. They come mixed together, which is what John has got, the mixed kind. Because he is taken both fast acting and long acting he needs to eat soon after injecting and he would have to keep these regular meals going to keep him blood sugar levels normal.

I hope that helps anyone who isn't aware of diabetes and the way to treat diabetes. If I don't explain myself very clearly contact me or ask in a review and I will answer your questions to the best of my ability.

Lastly, I want to thank for those who have added my story to your story alerts. I hope you continue to enjoy this fiction.

Kelral Orlyana


	3. Decisions

Surviving This

Chapter Three- Decision

I sighed quietly as I glanced down at the old radio I was fixing. This was the fourteenth machine I've fixed. I had nothing better to do. My family were treating me glass, even if I was going out to sit at the edge of the pool or to actually swim they were always watching carefully, in the end I found refuge in fixing machines in the holding bay for the Thunderbirds. Fermat and Brains were always with me, working quietly and asking me if I was alright, but not overwhelming me with their worry. It was relieving and calming.

I sighed again and stretched, something had distracted me. Normally I could work non-stop with no food and only a drink to keep me going. But now I was always hungry, but surely I couldn't be hungry again! I had only eaten an hour or so ago! I frowned thoughtfully analysing myself. Yes, I was hungry! For crying out loud!

After putting everything away and washing my hands, I wandered up to the main building. My family was currently on a mission, Brains was sitting at Dad's desk watching over the mission. It meant I could wander into the kitchen and grab or make myself a snack without them watching. It took me a few minutes of searching the cupboards and fridge before checking them again, finally deciding on an apple.

I walked into the living room and grabbed a book I had been reading earlier. I slowly read the fifth chapter and frowned at what was written, immediately engrossed in the theory the writer was suggesting, I never realised I was eating the apple absentmindedly until the apple was gone and I was only holding the core. I quickly stood and got rid of the apple core before returning to the book.

Even though I was engrossed in the book, I had a thought niggling in the back of my mind. I kept checking my watch and reading the time. It took me a few moments to realise why I was doing it. I was literally counting down the time to the next injection nervously. I sighed again, I couldn't put my watch away, I would still be looking for the time. I guess this was just my new habit.

I heard the engine of Thunderbird 1 return; I didn't want to face my father or brothers. With another sigh and a stretch I wandered back to the relative safety of my room. I needed the peace and quiet; I had another chapter of my new book to write.

I listened quietly to Scott strolling through the building, obviously heading for the shower, Thunderbird 2 returned a while later and Gordon and Alan had no trouble arguing loudly between themselves. Virgil and Dad remained quiet, but I figured that Dad would be sitting in his office talking to Brains and Virgil would be heading to the shower.

I frowned thoughtfully wondering how to articulate my thoughts before writing my ideas down, using my research papers as a guide. I glanced at the time constantly but I managed to write three chapters with little trouble.

"John, Lottie's on the phone!" Dad called up.

"Coming!" I cried out, placing my paperwork on the bed carefully, before sliding off the bed and standing. I wandered down the stairs and into Dad's office, taking the phone from my dad. "Hello?"

"Hello John, its Lottie." She stated needlessly.

"Hi, Lottie." I replied.

"How are you doing?" She asked.

"I'm fine." I replied, mentally snorting. I was not fine, my life had been destroyed by the one word 'diabetes', I was stuck dieting and jabbing needles into myself, but of course I was absolutely fine!

"I booked your new appointment for Monday, is that alright?"

"Yes, that's great." I replied, it wasn't like I had anything else to do. All I was doing was hiding in the house away from my own family. I needed to get out of the house and off this damn Island, it was suffocating with everyone watching and worrying! Why couldn't they accept I was fine? Ignore the fact I wasn't fine and accept that I am like Lottie here!

"Okay, have you been out and carried on living normally? Don't let Diabetes control you, you control the diabetes." She lectured, I mentally snorted. Yea, live life normally, how could I go back to Thunderbird 5 with this? She had no clue.

"I've been busy doing stuff at home." I replied, glaring as Dad snorted, she didn't need to know I was slinking around the house feeling sorry for myself.

"You should really go out and live your life, John."

Doing what? "I know." I replied out loud.

"I want you to relax, John, get out and about."

"Okay,"

"Okay then, I'll see you next Monday."

"Okay, see you then." I replied. "Bye."

"Bye,"

I hung up the phone and turned to leave. "Are you alright son?" Dad asked watching me worriedly from behind his desk.

"Yes, I'm fine." I replied, shrugging off his concerns. "I'm just busy writing the next chapters for my book." I stated, simply trying to stop Dad asking after my well-being.

"Alright, need any help?"

"No, it's alright." I replied walking towards the door.

"You look healthier son."

I nodded absentmindedly, used to the comments. They didn't understand, I may look healthier but I still had to jab myself with needles. "Thank you." I answered quietly before walking out of the room.

I sighed for what seemed the millionth time today. I suppose Dad was right. I was healthier and I shouldn't really complain about the injections, should I? After all 'no pain, no gain'. But this wasn't pain, it was torture. I couldn't go out as much as I liked. I had to be at home or somewhere to eat by six and then I had to keep testing my blood regularly. It was a bloody nightmare! I absolutely hated it. Perhaps it was time to change to the new system that Lottie suggested. What was it that she called it? Basal Bogus? Basal Bolus? Oh I don't know! All I know was that it would give me freedom to eat when I want without the restraining schedule.

Yes that's what I'll do next time I see her, I'll change to the new system... that is if she offered it of course.

* * *

><p>AN:- I have to point out that at the moment, this story is pretty angsty. Diabetes is an angsty subject and a lot of people feel their on their own, even when their with family. It's completely understandable, for me anyway, everyone's diabetes is different, but and this is a BIG BUT, they are not alone...

As for the 'Basal Bogus' or 'Basal Bolus' bit, I am not entirely sure what it was... I didn't hear what my nurse said all that clearly so for a long time is was Basl Bogus... recently it's Basal Bolus, if anyone more knowledgable then me realises this is wrong or they wish to tell me more info, I would love for you to add it in a review for everyone to read... think of it as sharing our opinions and experiences... BUT I understand how personal diabetes is, so if you feel uncomfortable adding it in a review, PM me... I'd love to hear from you...


	4. Change

Surviving This 

Chapter Four- Change

I felt my blood pumping as I sat waiting around, until my next appointment with Lottie. Everyone was strangely quiet; I caught my brothers throwing concerned glances my way. I frowned and focused on the book I was currently reading. I was trying to distract myself, but it was very obvious I wasn't focusing on the book; I had been on the same page since I opened it ten minutes ago. My eyes kept wandering to the clock.

I didn't really know why I was so anxious. After all it wasn't like the nurse was going to go 'Oops, looks like your diagnosis was a fake!' But here I was feeling my blood pumping in fear, the same way it had when I was rushed to hospital to meet Lottie.

"Come on." Dad called as he strolled out of the door and to the car. I stood and tried to sigh in relief, but I was too tense. I'd finished waiting anxiously at home, now I had to go through waiting anxiously in the waiting room and the actual meeting. I was on edge. I climbed into the car, taking the front passenger seat and buckled in. Dad didn't even try to make conversation, knowing I was too tense and nervous to really be a good conversationalist.

If I looked at myself now, I would laugh my ass off. How could it be John Glenn Tracy, the guy who spent nine months of the year up in space dealing with space dust, meteorites, comets and technical systems that kept him alive suddenly quail with fear at the sight of a tiny needle? I was ashamed of myself. Yet, I still did it. I still felt the panic; I didn't even try to push it back. Instead I made it worse by thinking about all the cons of diabetes, like amputation and comas.

I took a deep breath. Okay, I had to stop thinking of all the bad things, somehow. I mean I was healthy. I have never looked as good as I do now, instead of a skinny skeleton; I was now a healthy young man. I wasn't as repulsed by normal food as I used to be. In fact, I would dare to say that I actually enjoyed eating food now, although I still loved my chocolate.

Surely there was nothing to be afraid of? I asked myself mentally, before sighing as I felt my blood pumping. I was too scared and too nervous to truly relax.

Dad said nothing as he pulled into the hospital, I had no doubt that he'd notice me trying to relax but unable to, but he said nothing. What was there for him to say? That it would get better? Diabetes would only get better if it went away!

No, if I wasn't diagnosed I could be in a coma or worse, dead by now. I sternly told myself as I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. The diagnosis was a good thing. It doesn't matter about the restraining schedule, it's better than lying in a hospital bed for years at a time, or even, god forbid laying in the morgue. I shuddered at the thought. No I would not become that person. Being diagnosed was a good thing and I would keep myself healthy. I would!

I stalked into the building and told the receptionist that I was here; I did as I was told and sat waiting for Lottie to show up. I couldn't sit still, I stared at the magazines and then the television as I fidgeted, not entirely sure how to sit. I wasn't even sure that I could sit still anyway.

The clock hand moved so bloody slow! I just wanted to see my nurse; I didn't want to sit here feeling sorry for myself. I could do that home. Where was she?

"John, come on in." Lottie called from the hallway door. I eagerly stood and marched over to her, my dad following just as quickly. We followed her down the corridor and to a door. She opened it and walked in signalling to a chair directly in front of her. "It's good to see you again. How have you been doing?"

"I've been doing well." I answered, quietly, well aware of Dad watching. I was waiting for him to contradict me, but he seemed to be willing to sit back and watch this time.

"Let me have a look at your readings." She stated. I handed her my book and watched quietly as she copied the numbers written in the small book. "You've been doing surprisingly well. A lot of my patients tend to get very upset when diagnosed and rebel. They go out and eat lots of chocolate or McDonald's. One patient injects when they have to but never test their blood." She told me before turning to my Dad. "You've got a very special son here. Not many take to testing their blood four times a day, or injecting." Dad smiled proudly at me. Lottie smiled. "Have you thought about the Basal Bolus system? Where you inject when you eat, it would allow for more flexibility." She asked.

"I'm interested in it. I think I'm ready for it. This schedule of injecting twice a day is getting to me." I admitted. "If this will allow me more freedom I'm all for it."

Lottie glanced at Dad, but I didn't see what Dad's expression was. Lottie smiled. "What I will happen is you will have your fast acting and long acting insulin separate. Right now they are mixed together with egg-white to preserve them, but with the new system they'll be separate. They are also clear, they look like water. I'm going to prescribe you, for you long acting insulin, Lantus Glargine. For your fast acting insulin, I will prescribe you Humalog lispro." She explained. "The long acting insulin, Glargine will hold your sugar levels at a steady rate throughout the day. It can't handle intakes of food though; it can only handle about fifteen grams of carbohydrates. That would probably be the equivalent of one fruit, like an apple. Your fast acting insulin will deal with the food. Let's see you're currently on 12 units in the morning and 14 in the evening, so that would be the equivalent of 10 units of long acting and 2 or 3 units of fast acting." She jotted it down in my little diabetes diary. "You can inject your long acting at any time, but it must be injected at the same time the next day."

"So I can choose anytime to inject the long acting but once I've chosen the time, I have to renew the dose every day." I asked.

"Yes, it's twenty-four hour insulin. It will keep you blood sugar levels even throughout the day." Lottie explained. "If you miss out injecting at the time you're supposed to all you have to do is subtract the hours you've missed and inject the remaining units."

"I don't understand." Dad stated.

"Say I inject in the morning. But one day I miss it, if I miss half the day I can inject half the dose I normally do. For example, I inject at seven, if I don't realise I've missed the injection until seven that evening I can inject 5 units of my fast acting to keep me going until the next time I inject and then I can refresh the dose." I explained, I still don't think my dad entirely understood, but he nodded anyway. I guess it was more important that I understood than him.

"You've got it!" Lottie stated with a smile. "You'll inject the fast acting for your meals. For now, I say we should start with 1-2 units for breakfast and lunch. Then we'll have 2-3 units for dinner. We'll change the dose until it fits you." She stated. I nodded in understanding. "Okay, what I'll do is print of a letter to your GP to get them to update your prescription. Once it's updated, order the new medication and bring them to your next appointment so I can get you started. Shall I see you in a month's time?" She asked.

I glanced at Dad who nodded. "Yes, sure."

"Shall we do another Thursday?" She asked. I nodded, quite happy to do any date.

"Alright then, I'll see you in a month's time to set you up with your new medication." She stated, again I nodded. "It was good to see you again John." I stood and shook her hand and smiled walking out of the room with my dad. "Take care."

"Bye." I called alongside my Dad.

The journey back was just as quiet and the moment we hit land, I climbed out and disappeared into my room. I sighed, finally able to breathe calmly again. God I hated this, now I was wondering if I had chosen to do the right thing. But I was determined I was right. I wouldn't be restrained by this system anymore. I would grab hold of anything that gave me more freedom and this new system would give me more freedom. I could eat when I wanted and miss meals without fear of shaking.

I would be fine.

* * *

><p>AN:- Well, not much to say here, I think that the way I described the fast acting and long acting insulin in this chapter is correct (I hope).

Again I must mention that whilst there is a lot of angst, I am not going to sugar-coat it, but I hope through sharing my experiences through John, my experiences will not be the same as yours, everyone's diabetes is different, but I want you to know you aren't alone. x

I am sorry for not updating but I've decided to rewrite these chapters. Please don't worry readers, I don't intend to change it that much. I was considering changing it to third person but I thought it would hold as much weight. If you'd like to tell me any differently or give me some thoughts and ideas then please message me or review and let me know...

I will try not to take too long but as most will probably know I am writing several different stories at the same time but I will be working on this as well...

Until next time...

Kelral Orlyana.


	5. Adapting

Surviving This

Chapter Four- Adapting

A month had passed and my Dad and I were sat waiting in the hospital waiting room, Dad was looking deceptively relaxed but I could see his eyes analysing everything and everyone. I was resisting the urge to fidget, I kept my eyes focused on a particular point and tried to ignore everything else.

The moment Lottie walked through the entrance door of the ward and ushered us in, I could feel relieve in the air. We followed the woman into a small room and sat. "How are you doing?" She asked warmly.

"Alright." I replied quietly, Dad snorted. "I've had some trouble injecting." I added at Dad's angry glare.

"What kind of trouble?" Lottie asked in concern.

"Sometimes I can't get the needle in, it's bloody painful. Other times there is a small pool of blood where I've accidently injected into a capillary and I sometimes get bruises." I answered.

"He's been close to tears a lot of the time." Dad replied.

Lottie frowned. "There is not much I can do, the only way is to inject, and unfortunately you'll have to learn the right way to inject for yourself. Let me have a look at your arms and legs." She asked. John nodded and cautiously stripped, he felt really self-aware when he was exposed like this. Lottie hummed. "It looks like you might have injected into muscle and you're also injecting more often in the right leg, I can feel little bumps. Have you tried injecting in any other place?"

"I've injected in my left leg but it hurts less on the right." I replied.

"What about your stomach or arms?"

I winced at the thought of injecting in the stomach. "No not the stomach." I argued. "I'm not ready to inject anywhere else." I added.

"It might hurt less there, son." Dad replied. "Just try the arms and see how it works."

"No, I'm not ready." I said close to arguing with the older man.

"He's not ready Mr Tracy. When he's ready he'll do it in his own time." Lottie interrupted calming the situation down immediately. "Okay then John, it is your choice, but I would like you to think about changing you injection sites."

"Okay." I agreed obligingly but I think we all knew I wouldn't bother thinking about it for some time.

Lottie glanced down at her papers and the medicine boxes around her. "Okay, as I told you last time. Your Glargine, your long acting insulin will be at ten units and for now your Humalog, the fast acting insulin will be at two to three until per meal." I nodded acceptingly. "You'll be using this pen for the long acting insulin, this is a sanofi Aventis pen." She explained showing a blue and silver pen. I glanced at the pen more closely and absentmindedly noticed the black oval shape at the base of the pen with a small window. In the window was a single number 0 and half a 2, I instantly recognised it as the turning dial. Once Lottie was sure I understood what the pen was she picked up a second pen. His one was green and silver, with a silver oval and a window. Once again the window had the figure 0 and the hint 1. "This is for your Humalog, this is a HumaPen. It is a half unit pen, so it does 0, 0.5, 1 and so forth does that make sense?" She asked.

"Yes." I answered. We both strived to explain to my Dad what we were talking about until he too understood how the system worked. Finally we were all happy and Lottie felt happy to send me off. She asked me to buy one book called Carbs and Cals so I could keep track of what I was eating and what to inject.

I was relieved to have left since talking about diabetes made me so uncomfortable, it did not help that when we returned to the Island everyone including my brothers and Brains (who had called in from my bird) asked how it went. Dad explained as best as he could and I jumped in as I had more understanding of what was going on.

Virgil frowned and said that I would need better guidance than I was given and wandered off mumbling about getting access to my medical files.

Everyone else was mildly satisfied and I was able to wander off and work on my research of the stars and my book. It faintly registered that whilst I hated what I was doing, the injections were slowly becoming and irritating routine, rather than something to be despised and hated. It was quite alarming to find I was becoming used to it, but in some ways I was glad because I wouldn't be overcome by the heart clenching fear I had before of sticking a needle into myself.

It was not until a few days later that the pain of injecting in my leg became too much and I finally gave into the idea of injecting into my arm. I was terrified and on the verge of shaking as the shiny, small piece of sharp metal got closer to the meat of my arm. I finally pushed it in a blinked as I felt…nothing. Not a single thing. I pushed the plunger down slowly. Still nothing. When I pulled the needle out I felt a sharp pain but nothing I could not handle. A few days later and I was happily injecting in front of my brothers. My brothers relaxed and didn't being attention to it but Virgil and Dad did watch for a short time with concern and curiosity. Having them watch and not react gave me some confidence and all though I still disliked it, I was able to continue without it affecting my life adversely.

For once things seem to be looking up!

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><p>AN: Sorry for the delay guys, but it can be difficult to write this seeing as this is all really my experiences and POV. I was going to rewrite this whole thing initially but I've decided not to do so and continue how I was doing it in the first place.

I end this chapter on a good note. I don't know when the next update will come after this but be assured that I am still continuing this story. Thank you for the support you're all giving me, it has been really wonderful! And of course I hope that by telling my story I am helping others too.

I'll leave you all with one small note:-

'Life will always knock you down, it is the getting back up that counts'.

Until next time…

Kelral Orlyana


	6. Normal

Surviving This

Chapter Five- Normal

It had been a couple of months since I had changed my insulin and doses. Lottie had asked me to adjust the insulin dose myself but I had absolutely no clue what to do. Fortunately Virgil knew what to do and together we sat and did the maths. We analysed the weight of the food and how many carbohydrates were in said food. Then over a series of weeks we analysed my blood level readings and estimated how much insulin to inject for 10 gram carbs. We started with 0.5 units for every 10 grams and slowly increased and decreased the dose depending on what I ate. Gradually I became more confident and independent and was able to inject just the right amount for every time I ate.

My family often mentioned how proud they were of me and I smiled at them every time. I had already realised that I was brave and smart, which by no means was brag, it was pure truth, not everyone could handle six to eight injections a day.

And now here I was literally scoffing a Terry's Chocolate Orange. I had already calculated how much insulin I needed and just injected after I had eaten. Scott raised an eyebrow at the empty packet when he wandered into the living room; I just shrugged my shoulder with a sheepish smile and went back to watching a documentary.

"Dad and Alan have been gone a long time." Scott stated as he sat beside me.

I frowned. "Yea." I replied. Alan had been sick recently, always tired and lacked energy to do anything. He'd caught a few colds and viruses over the past year or so, everyone was worried but my stomach clenched, every sign was pointing towards Diabetes. Could my brother be diabetic too? I sighed, hating myself for thinking it. "I hope I wrong. God, I hope I'm wrong, but everything seems to point towards Diabetes." I stated out loud.

Scott glanced at me and nodded solemnly. "We'll have to wait to find out." He said after a few moments.

After we had said those words we were quiet, Gordon had disappeared to God-knows-where obviously missing his pranking comrade and little brother. Virgil had been very quiet ever since Alan had become ill and I wondered if he had worked it all out long before us or suspected. Scott and I, we just sat there watching stupid documentaries and other un-named programmes, without actually registering what was said.

The sound of the car returning and the doors opening easily filled the air. The door opened and slowly, too slowly Alan and Dad walked in. The look on Alan's face said it all; I stood and had my brother in my arms within moments. Virgil and Gordon walked in and took one look at me hugging my brother and realised that something was going on.

"Alan had Type 1 Diabetes as well." Dad finally stated. I felt tears through my clothes and realised that Alan was silently sobbing. I held on tighter, my hand gently rubbing the boy's hair. "It's alright." I whispered. "It will be alright." I promised.

"I'm scared."

I nodded understandingly. "So was I." I replied. "But trust me; it's not the end of the world. It will be fine." I promised. Watery blue eyes similar to mine met my gaze trustingly. "You've seen how I inject, in front of you barely flinching." Alan nodded with a wince. "It rarely hurts. In fact most of the time it's painless." I admitted. "It seems really bad now, but later you'll wonder what the fuss is about."

"Will you help me?" Alan asked fearfully.

"Of course." I replied instantly. "Do you need to do anything now?"

"No, we did it at the hospital." Alan replied. "She said I'll be fine for now."

"She?"

"Lottie." Alan replied with a smile at the irony.

"Nice, isn't she?" I asked with a smile. Alan smiled too. "What system are you on?"

"Twice daily injection." Alan replied quietly. "Apparently the fast acting and long acting are mixed together…"

"Yes they are." I replied. "That means you don't have to do what I do."

"And what is that?"

"Injecting every time you eat." I stated with a smile. Alan cringed at the thought so I thought it best not to mention that he'd be doing what I was doing in the future. Alan smiled nervously as father took him from my arms and held his son. I sat back down and relaxed against the cushions.

Alan was really nervous, it was clear to everyone that he was watching my every move. Every now and then he would pluck up the courage to ask me a question about it and I would patiently answer and explain to the best of my ability. Injecting as I ate was rather amusing, not because of the injection, it was because Alan watched everything from the quick notes I wrote in my notepad to how I calculated and most importantly he watched as I prepared the insulin pen and needles.

It felt really being looked up to by Alan. I spent so much time unsure and nervous, by looking up to me, he gave me the reason I needed to stop worrying and just live. After all Alan needed me.

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><p>AN:- Another short chapter… I am finding it somewhat difficult to write down my experiences, especially since I am writing in first person POV. I am considering rewriting this story in an alternative way or just replacing the chapters I've posted. However, I will continue to update this story as often as I can. I thank all my readers for this story for their patience and understanding… hopefully you won't have to wait as long for the next update.


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